


Write from Wrong

by alex_fix



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Happy Ending, Meet-Cute, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:06:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29180727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_fix/pseuds/alex_fix
Summary: Waverly Earp has been on the wrong side of the law most of her life. Will Officer Nicole Haught be able to show her a different path?
Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 5
Kudos: 50





	Write from Wrong

Nicole studied the selection before her, trying to decide which would be best. Her eyes fell on the rose pink, a delicate shade, perfect for Waverly, she thought, although it lacked something. “I’m not sure,” she said after a few minutes deliberation, the sales assistant discreetly checking her watch.

“The emerald green one, perhaps,” the assistant suggested, for a third time. “It’s a beautiful colour. Says you’ve given it a lot of thought.”

“Perhaps. I do like the pink. Any more colours?”

The assistant rummaged in a drawer under the counter, checking the colour dots at the end of boxes. Retrieving one, she slid the protective cardboard sleeve off, placing the long thin container beside the others, opening the lid. Nicole considered the contents. “That one, that’s the one, it’s prettier than the rest.”

“Good choice. Shall I wrap it?”

“Please. It’s a present for someone special.”

“I’m sure they’ll love it,” the assistant added, cutting a piece of red wrapping paper to the right size, sealing the box inside, decorating it with a dainty white satin bow on top.

She hoped Waverly would like it. From the first day they met, Nicole could see the potential lying dormant in those beautiful green eyes, gazing at her from across the table in the interview room at the station. Running with the wrong crowd, at the wrong time of her life, led her to being on the wrong side of that table as Nicole took her statement. Not the first doe-eyed female to come before her, Nicole wondered how someone so pretty, with so many right options available, could find themselves on the wrong side of life and the law.

The answer to that question came when Waverly went to read her statement before signing. She shoved it back across the table, unwilling to do so. “It’s all there. Don’t need to see.”

“I need you to read it, before you sign,” Nicole instructed. “It’s your statement.”

“Don’t need to read anything. If it says what it says.”

“It’s best you read it, in case you disagree with what I’ve put.”

“It’s fine. I’m going to be locked up anyway. Words won’t make a difference.”

Familiar words to Nicole's ears. The reluctance of a person in custody to read their statement. She picked up the paperwork, watching Waverly’s eyes as she did so. “I’ll read the statement to you. Tell me if it’s what you want to sign your name to.”

Statement read, Waverly signed, a scrawl hardly legible, enough to confirm to Nicole her suspicions. It weighed on her mind that night, and the night after and the night after that. Searching the records, a pattern to Waverly’s life emerged, one Nicole was determined would not be continued if she could help it. Caught multiple times playing truant from school, minor run-ins with the law, nothing serious but typical of someone believing there to be nothing else, a classic pattern of someone struggling to find their place in Purgatory. A cry for help. One Nicole could hear clearly.

Four months. Waverly’s life went on hold for four months serving out her time. Nicole put in a request to visit. The first two declined, a third accepted. She watched as Waverly’s petite form entered the room, eyes searching for who might want to see her. Spying Nicole she smiled, lowering her head as a guard spotted what she was doing. She sat waiting for Nicole to speak, the cocky attitude in their first meeting gone, her prison uniform making her appear smaller than Nicole remembered.

“Hi, hope you don’t mind me being here,” Nicole began. “Only, I thought you might like the occasional visit.”

“Don’t mind. I’m not fussed about seeing people.”

“Have you got everything you need? I can bring you anything you might need, next visit.”

Waverly looked directly into Nicole’s eyes. “Why?”

“Because, I’d like to. I want to.”

“Why are you helping me? You put me in here.”

It was Nicole’s turn to stare. “I realise that. It’s my job. I want to help.”

“Don’t need no help. I can do just fine on my own.”

Nicole's eyes scanned the room. “Right. And this is doing fine is it?”

“It’s fine by me,” Waverly replied. “Just fine.”

“I really can help you,” Nicole pressed. “I want to help you. If you’ll let me.”

Waverly pondered Nicole’s words. So many people tried to help her over the years, either letting her down, or using her. And yet, she sensed something different about this officer, this cop, sitting opposite, soft-brown eyes studying her features. “How?”

“However you want. Although, I'm guessing there’s one thing that would really help get your life going in a different direction.”

“Yeah. You got a million bucks?” Waverly asked. “That would help.”

“Better than a million bucks. I’ve got a million words. That’s what I’ve got to offer.”

Waverly’s laughter attracted the stares of other inmates at nearby tables. “What do I need those for? Never helped me before.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Nicole replied. “I really struggled at school. Words danced all over the page, couldn’t get them to stay still. Started dropping out. Easier to do that than sit down and do the work making those words sit still on the page.” She could see Waverly's expression, silently agreeing, recognising it mirrored her own predicament. “A teacher spotted the problem eventually,” Nicole continued. “Others wrote me off, said I was unteachable. I knew I wasn’t. Just didn’t have the right teacher that's all.”

“Did the teacher help you?” Waverly asked, her voice quiet, wanting to know what happened.

“I’m this side of the table aren’t I. Could so easily have been your side. Yes, she helped. Showed me how to work through my problems. Not run away from them. It opened up a world for me. A magical world. Lots of worlds, in fact.”

“Never had a teacher like yours.”

“You have now, if you’ll let me. I’ll put in a request here for you to be tested and to get you on a learning programme.”

“No good at tests,” Waverly replied, sadness in her eyes, Nicole's hand moving across the table, suddenly remembering the rule on touching.

“Hey, sorry. No, not a test, test. One to find out...assess your needs. I’ll tell you now you’ll have to put the work in. And, it won’t be easy. But, it’s worth it, trust me.”

“Nothing else to do here. If you’d do that.”

A new sparkle in Waverly's eyes told Nicole she recognised a door of opportunity when being shown it. Whether she went through it had to be Waverly’s choice. Nicole’s hunch paid off. Waverly sprinted through that door. She visited every week, listening to Waverly recount her efforts, seeing her transform before her eyes. Even her body looked different, a new pride in herself, a new way in carrying herself. Nicole checked with the prison frequently on Waverly’s progress. She was doing well, better than the other students, more motivated, more curious, her abilities growing with her new found confidence.

The day of her release, Nicole picked her up, driving her back to Purgatory, to the ramshackle house she called home. Her aunt greeted her at the front door, drunk, too drunk to care whether her niece was out of prison or not. Waverly could see this life no longer held any attraction. It offered her nothing but a one-way trip back to jail. Nicole could see it too, suggesting she go fetch whatever belongings she wanted to take with her, offering her the spare room in her house. A risky offer, one that blurred the boundaries between their lives. But, she was drawn to her, wanting her to have something more than the paltry existence she had had to endure all these years.

Their first evening together began awkwardly, a friendship formed over a prison table needed to migrate to the outside world. She could sense Waverly’s discomfort in her new surroundings, not entirely sure why an officer would want to help her to the degree she was being helped. The tension eased when Nicole suggested she read to her. Book in hand, Waverly sat rigid on the couch, Nicole opening it, immersing them in a fantasy world neither wanted to end.

“That’s so sad,” Waverly said, taking a sip of the warm cocoa Nicole prepared for her. “His aunt and uncle really hated him. How could they be so cruel to make him sleep under the stairs?”

“That’s the beauty of stories,” Nicole offered. “They make you feel things. They let you explore life through the journey on the page.”

“I’d love to write like that. Don't think I ever will. Too late for me.”

Nicole put down the book. “The writer of this story struggled. Single parent, wrote her first one in a café. Multiple rejections before it was published. She’s not doing too badly now.”

“Read some more. I want to know what happens.”

Nicole continued reading, stopping only when she noticed Waverly eyes were closed. The start of a new routine of nightly adventures, Waverly stopping Nicole every so often to discuss a part of the story just read, challenging ideas, a sense of wonder at having discovered these new worlds in which to venture.

She found it one day, by accident, while tidying up the lounge. A notebook, simple in design, something a child might use to practise their handwriting. Waverly’s writing. Line, after line, after line of words copied from the stories read to each other. And, a story, written in secret, a magical world, Waverly’s imagination exploding from the page. Nicole sat and read to the end, tears trickling down her face at the emotions captured, so simply, so beautifully. And tears of joy for Waverly having found her passion. A natural storyteller, able to bring another along effortlessly on the journey.

Nicole replaced the journal where she found it, not sure if Waverly left it there by accident, or on purpose. And, that’s how she found herself in a store that day choosing a gift for Waverly. One she hoped would bring her joy, bring her a new life, different from the one she so easily could have slipped back into but for their own stories entwining that fateful night of her arrest.

Waverly returned from her job at the mall, Nicole busy preparing dinner. Tired, feet aching from hours cleaning floors and toilets and emptying bins, she slumped on the couch, eyes closing, escaping the outside world. “Picked up a new book,” she called out. “Sounds amazing. My turn to read tonight.”

Nicole stuck her head out from the kitchen. “Cool. We eat first. You know what you’re like once we get into a story.”

“Not fair. I’m dying to start this one. One chapter. Please, please.”

“Fine. One chapter. But, only one.”

“What’s this?” Waverly asked, spotting the gift on the coffee table.

“Open it.”

Waverly carefully removed the white bow, peeling back the red wrapping paper, sliding off the protective sleeve. She gasped as she opened the box, removing the contents, holding it in her hand, admiring its weight. “It’s…it’s beautiful. You shouldn’t have. Nicole, it’s…”

“I figured you might need one for that story you keep telling me you’re about to write. Now you have no excuse not to start it.”

Waverly rushed to the kitchen, embracing Nicole, the turquoise pen still in her hand. “I’ve kind of already started. It’s still all new to me, but I have an idea for a story.”

“That’s great. See, I knew you had it in you.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For believing in me. For showing me there’s more to life than the road I’d taken.”

“Waverly Earp, bad girl turned good, turned writer. Has a catchy ring to it.”

“I could be a bad girl if that's what you wanted.”

Nicole eased her body nearer Waverly's. “The only kind of writer I like.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one shot I originally published on my Lymers AO3 account. If you like these Wayhaught one shots, check out my longer Wayhaught stories under Lymers. 
> 
> Current story: OOH - Welcome to my World.


End file.
